


Close to Home

by Kittycrackers (Calacious)



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Possible Fluffy ending, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Kittycrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long-kept secret is revealed to Damian Spinelli that will change the course of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Stormy Nights and Aliens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suerum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suerum/gifts).



> I don't own the characters of this work of fiction, and do not make a profit from it.
> 
> Hoping that moving this will give me the push I need to finish writing it.

Spinelli was suddenly struck with a strange sense of foreboding that had nothing to do with the odd streak of thunderstorms which had recently plagued Port Charles. He glanced around the dimly lit office, wishing that he hadn't told Sam that she could go on to the Penthouse without him. At the time, he'd felt safe and even somewhat brave, but now, the hair on the back of his neck was standing up and he couldn't quite pinpoint what was wrong.

A shiver shook him and he glanced toward the door. _It's nothing, just the storm_ , he assured himself and turned back to his computer. Taking a deep breath, he returned to his research for McCall and Jackal's latest client, a man searching for his birth mother. Though it wasn't their normal type of case to take on, there was something about the young man which had weighed upon both Sam's and his hearts, making it next to impossible for them to refuse the case.

He focused his mind on the task at hand, knowing that it was only a matter of time until he was able to make a breakthrough. Frustrated by his current lack of a promising lead, he leaned back and stretched, contemplating calling it a day. It was well past quitting time for those with nine to five day jobs and, pushing himself until he was beyond exhausted wouldn't help their client any. It would be better for all involved if he got some rest and renewed his efforts on the morrow.

Having decided that, he opened a word document and quickly typed up notes detailing the day's research. His fingers flew over the keys barely touching them as he typed. Lightning struck nearby and Spinelli's fingers paused above the keys as he counted the seconds between the lightning strike and the rolling thunder that followed.

_One Mississippi, two mississ…_ the thunder boom was accompanied by another flash of lightning which lit up the interior of the office before the storm severed the power to the building, cloaking Spinelli completely in darkness, save for the soft glow of his computer screen. His face was bathed in an eerie luminescence, had anyone been looking in, at that precise moment, they'd have been struck with an incomprehensible fear.

Spinelli's heart stilled and he swallowed audibly, grateful that Sam was no longer in the office and that his mentor was nowhere nearby to witness his tangible, irrational fear. If either of them had been there, he'd have melted in abject humiliation.

Shaking himself from his dire musings, he resumed his typing, reasoning that thunderstorms and lightning were commonplace as were power outages. Thankfully his laptop had a power surge protector and it was fully charged, though he wouldn't need to use it much longer as he was almost finished typing his notes, not that there was much to record as it had not been a very successful day of research, but he did not wish to retrace his steps so he made his notes as thorough as possible. Maybe he'd be able to discover something he'd missed in the initial research when he went over his notes the following day.

Typing up his final thoughts, Spinelli smiled grimly and, after encrypting the notes, he saved them and then powered down his laptop, tucking it safely away in its carrying case. Taking another look around the now darkened office, he stood, suddenly eager to leave, and froze when he caught sight of a shadow looming outside of the door to the office, the very door he had to leave through.

Fear kept him rooted to the spot where he stood, the strap to his laptop case half slung over his shoulder even as the knob on the door began to turn. The hammering of his heart drowned out the sound of the door as it slowly swung inward, allowing the dark shadowed figure unhindered entrance as he'd forgotten to lock the door, though he'd promised Sam he would when he'd decided to work past their usual hours posted on the door. _Oh fuck._

He tried to find his voice to address the shadow as it crossed the threshold of the office, but his throat and mouth had gone dry. As the figure approached him with outstretched arms, he let out a strangled cry and took a frantic step backwards. Tripping over his own feet, he ended up in a sprawled heap upon the floor.

Terror gripped him as the entity, silhouetted by the shadows even in the dark, quickened its approach. Soon it stood above him and Spinelli found it difficult to breathe past his mounting panic. He felt the eyes of the creature of the night on him and cowered in fear, fingering the cell phone in his pocket, wondering if he'd be able to hit the speed dial for Stone Cold's number without looking at the phone.

"S…" he rasped out between his chapped lips, "p…" His vision greyed as the figured suddenly lowered itself and knelt before him, reaching its ghostly hands out to touch him. He flinched back, fumbling with his cellphone, wishing to god that he had just gone home when Sam had.

A cold, clammy hand touched his face and darkness descended upon him even as lightning struck, revealing the wraithlike visage of a young, yet haggard woman, dark and graying hair billowing around her thin, wrinkled face in wispy tendrils. Sighing, the woman, gaunt from years of on and off drug and alcohol abuse, gently touched the face of the young man who'd fainted, brushing the hair out of his eyes as she did so.

This was not how it was supposed to go. It had been hard for her to work up the courage to do this, but it was important that she make things right and she had little time left to do so. Soon, she'd be dead and she could not take this particular sin silently to her grave. She'd thought of going to her mother with the truth about what had really happened twenty-two years ago, but couldn't bring herself to face her mother's harsh condemnation, no matter how much she deserved it.

She'd stood out in the corridor for hours after the boy's partner had departed, working up the nerve to enter the office and correct the horrible, selfish mistake she'd made decades prior. As the storm had grown more violent, so had her thoughts of backing away, allowing the boy to live his life blissfully unaware of how her past iniquities had changed the course of his life from the moment he'd been born.

But, there was another voice at the back of her mind, urging her to do the right thing, for once. The annoying voice that many people called a conscience had been largely silent for much of her life, but had been painfully awakened when she'd attained her first, difficult year of sobriety three years ago.

She'd barely batted an eye when her doctor had given her the news that she had scant months left to live and knew instantly what she must do before she could be allowed to die in peace. The secret she'd been carrying for the past twenty-two years seared her newly stirred conscience until all she could think about day and night was putting to rights what she'd messed up when she'd been a self-centered, wild, drugged and fucked up teenager.

Frowning in determination, brows furrowed, she reached forward and tapped the young, unconscious man on the cheek. Slightly worried at the ashen pallor of his skin, she pursed her lips in concentration, sending a prayer heavenward that the boy was okay, that he hadn't smacked his head against the desk as he fainted.

Tentatively, she fingered the back of his head, searching for any hidden injuries. She grew even more concerned when he didn't respond to her gentle ministrations. Her fingers stilled when they came upon a lump at the back of his head, covered by a thick thatch of hair it was barely discernible, but, much to her horror, growing beneath her touch.

She prodded at the quarter sized lump, letting out a breath of relief she hadn't known she'd been holding in when the touch elicited a moan from the still unconscious man. His eyes rolled beneath the lids, as though trying to regain consciousness and she held her breath. Further examination of his wound had her pulling back her fingers in alarm at the sticky substance she'd encountered.

Terrified that he would not wake up, that she'd be discovered here, in the darkened office, hovering over his comatose or, worse yet, dead, body, she began to shake him, calling out his name.

"You have to wake up Mr. Spinelli," she whispered frantically, "Mr. Spinelli," she raised her voice as his eyes moved beneath still closed eyelids and she shook him again, hoping that it would help him to regain consciousness.

It was the only thing she knew to do. Though she worried that it might not be the right thing to do, action movies afforded her the only medical training she'd ever had and in every single one of them, the hero was awakened by a brisk shake and slap to the face which she administered to Spinelli with gusto.

"Mr. Spinelli," the disembodied words seemed to be coming to him from within a long tunnel which distorted the sound and gave it an echoing quality. What felt like a sharp slap to the face stung him and he struggled to back away from whatever held him in place. His head hurt, his cheek ached and the desperate sound of a woman's voice beckoned him to wake up.

He blinked in the darkness, taking in the blurry countenance of a strange woman hovering just inches above his own. He let loose a scream, no louder than a whimper and scrambled away from her as quickly and nimbly as he was able to under the circumstances. He felt the thunder rumble through him as the sky was lit up by another round of lightning, bathing the room in supernatural luminosity which gave him a clearer view of the woman who'd entered the room.

"Mr. Spinelli, please," she pleaded. Her brown eyes, large and supplicating as she reached out to him, "I mean you no harm."

A bizarre image of ET coupled with an alien from the Sigourney Weaver classic superimposed itself on the forefront of his mind and he let out an, unfortunately, unmanly squeal as he backed himself up into the unrelenting wall behind him in an attempt to get away from the paranormal creature reaching its tentacles toward him to suck out his brain.

"No!" He cried out, throwing his hands up to protect himself.

Still, she crawled closer to him, her arms outstretched. "Mr. Spinelli, I'm sorry."

It sounded so sincere, but didn't most brain-sucking aliens sound sincere just before they got their tentacles on you and cracked your head open to eat your brains?

"Mr. Spinelli, I…" She stopped moving, holding her hands held out in a gesture of placation. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I…I didn't mean for you to get hurt. Actually, I came here to make up for something I did to you a long, long time ago."

"Oh no," Spinelli whispered, leaning his head against the wall in defeat. All of that relentless teasing he'd been subjected to when he'd been a kid growing up in Tennessee was true; he had been abducted by an alien, his DNA altered and returned to the earth as some alien/human hybrid freak.

Their taunts of _Damien the alien_ reverberated through his mind, drowning out the words of the 'woman' who was speaking to him. _Damien the alien, freakazoid humanoid, someday they'll be coming to take you back to your home planet, you freaking alien bastard._ The memory ofBilly's cruel jeers brought tears to his eyes as he realized just how true the neighborhood bully had been.

"The Jackal has found a home here," he beseeched the being before him. "You, you have no right," he stated angrily.

"I know," she answered; there was a note of sad resignation in her voice. "Mr. Spinelli, I am sorrier than you'll ever realize for taking you away from your rightful family when you were a baby. It's just that I was so distraught. You see," she paused, wringing her hands and Spinelli watched in horrified fascination as she bit her lower lip. "You see." She seemed to be gathering her nerve to say whatever it was that she had to say.

Spinelli thought it odd that an alien should be apologizing to him. Whatever it wanted with him, it wasn't as though the creature would alter its course of action. Why bother to explain that it was about to rip him from an existence where he finally felt he belonged, at least somewhat? Why the fuck was it drawing this out so painfully?

"My little baby died, really before he was born; only I didn't know it. When he was born, little Damien Spinelli was so still and blue. I yelled at the doctors to make him breathe and when they shook their heads, turning away, I wrenched the little lifeless infant from the table they'd placed him on and, oh but his body was still warm, he had every single finger and toe. He was perfect, but no amount of shaking made him wake up."

Spinelli watched and listened in wide-eyed wonder as the woman bemoaned the death of her baby boy. Maybe she wasn't an alien, just a crazy, unbalanced madwoman who had an unhealthy obsession with him.

"Bu…but," Spinelli choked on the words, trying to make sense of what the nutty woman was telling him.

Clearly, he had not died during childbirth, he was very much alive and…could this demented woman be his mother? Could this fragile shell of a woman be the selfsame one who'd abandoned him on his grandmother's front porch, addicted to her alcohol-laden breast-milk twenty-one years ago?

"Please just listen, I, I don't think I can say this more than once. I know that I don't have the right to ask even this of you, but I don't have much time left, I'm dying and I know that I can't face my mother. It wouldn't be fair to her, just to return to die, but before I die I want to make this right for you. Well, as right as such a thing can be made." She sighed.

"I…don't understand," Spinelli replied.

He gathered his knees up to his chest, resting his arms on them. His head felt as though a little man were hitting it with a little hammer from the inside and his vision remained somewhat blurry. He knew that he had a concussion, at the very least, and worried that perhaps he had not actually regained consciousness and this was some bizarre, perpetual dream that he'd never wake up from.

"I know, and I'm sorry. You see, before you were born, I met your mother. At a clinic. For unwed mothers. She was full of something which I couldn't understand at the time, hope and love and this irrepressible joy. Though she was in the same sad state as I was in, she remained upbeat and unafraid of what the future held and…" The woman, presumably Miss Spinelli, smiled. She sat across from him on the floor, not drawing any nearer out of deference to his fear.

"She loved you and wanted to keep you in spite of her family's pressure to have you adopted. She vowed to find a way to keep you." Her eyes shone with unshed tears that were illuminated by silent lightning. She reached out a hand, but stilled the movement when Spinelli started at the gesture.

"Only, she never got the chance. You were born two days after my dead Damien and, I'd like to say that it was the grief which drove me to do it, but I'd be lying," she smiled wryly, her mouth twisting at the end.

"I did it out of spite for her and her perpetual joy. I was a self-serving little bitch at the time and I took you to replace my dead little baby and ran away with you. It wasn't until a year later that I came to my senses, you'd almost died and I realized that I couldn't raise a little baby. I'm so sorry, I'm sure you don't remember what happened to you in that one year of life, but it wasn't so good. I dropped you off at my mom's house with nothing more than a note and never looked back until a few years ago when I finally sobered up." She was no longer looking at him and Spinelli figured that she was seeing and reviewing the mistakes of her past.

"And the rest," she smiled slightly, returning her gaze to him as she spoke, "is history."

Spinelli couldn't speak for a moment. He blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. _For all intents and purposes,_ he thought cynically, _I might as well have been the alien spawn my childhood comrades accused me of being all of those years ago._

"I suppose you must have some questions," Miss Spinelli spoke hesitantly; "I'll try to answer them."

"What was her name?" Spinelli had spoken so quietly that she'd had to strain her ears to hear.

"Karen…" she cocked her head to the side as though in thought before continuing, "Karen…Wexler."

"And my father?" Spinelli asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry honey," Miss Spinelli shrunk in on herself as Spinelli winced at the endearment, "she never mentioned his name, it was kind of an unspoken rule among us girls, not to speak of the father's by their names. Some of them knew they were about to be fathers and just didn't care, others didn't know."

"Oh," Spinelli visibly deflated.

"She did speak of him though," Miss Spinelli hurriedly added, hoping to restore the wistful look she'd seen briefly cross his face. It reminded her so much of Karen's that it brought tears of remorse to her eyes.

"He had the most beautiful blue eyes which sparkled like sapphires and a gorgeous smile which could rival that of Tom Selleck's, without the moustache," she supplied, "he was muscular and gallant and a right spoiled prince."

She laughed a little at the memory of how Karen had spoken about the boy she'd had a brief fling with, she'd had stars in her eyes when she spoke of him, even when detailing his faults which Belle Spinelli knew not to share with the woman's son. It had been vastly different from her own experience with Dave that she was jealous, but she'd never let on to Karen that she was.

"She would have been a wonderful mother to you, Damien and I'm sorry that I stole you from her. I know that I can't fix what I've done, but I'm hoping that, with what little information I can give you, you will be able to find her and your father."

In spite of his now throbbing headache, the wheels were spinning in Spinelli's head, mapping out a plan of how to go about finding his mother and father. His grandmother had always told him that his father was a good for nothing loser who'd freaked out when his mother had told him she was pregnant. That he'd abandoned her the moment the words had left her mouth.

Maybe, just maybe, the boy whom Karen had been with would not respond in a similar manner. Maybe he'd be willing to accept him as his son. It wouldn't hurt to try, unless, of course, his father summarily dismissed him as an unwanted, unloved mistake. What if he had a family and they saw him as a threat? There were too many what ifs to explore and his head hurt as it was.

It would be easy to find his mother, he had a name and maybe she'd even be willing to tell him who the father was. But what if she wanted nothing to do with him? The woman who'd kidnapped him, that thought sent a shiver through him, had said she'd wanted him, but what if she was wrong? What if Karen had decided, in the end, to give him up and had never looked back? What if she had never learned of his kidnapping and thought that, all this time, he'd grown up with his adoptive family?

He grew dizzy as the thoughts swirled in his mind and didn't fight off his kidnapper as she wrapped her arms around him and held him. There were only two more things which he needed to know before he could begin his search and find his rightful parents.

"What's the name of the clinic?" He cleared his throat, tight with emotion, and asked.

"Safe Haven for Unwed Teenage Mothers. It was located in a small rural town in New York, about fifty miles from Port Charles, called Dashville. I'm not sure if it is there any longer, but I've heard that you are quite the computer genius, your mom would be so proud."

Belle squeezed Spinelli's shoulders knowing that it would be little consolation coming from her, but needing to say it anyway, "I'm proud of you. Though I wasn't around, I did call home and check up on you over the years. Mom was so proud of you, though I doubt she'd ever tell you that. It was never her way."

"And your name?" Spinelli interrupted, feeling slightly off-center. Pulling out of his pseudo-mother's arms, he faced the woman who had abandoned him as a baby, conflicting emotions roiling in his stomach.

"Belle," she murmured.

For some strange reason that Spinelli could not fully understand, he began to cry for the loss of the woman who was sitting next to him. It was because of her that he had grown up with Granny Spinelli in Tennessee rather than his rightful mother and possibly father.

It was her fault that he felt unlovable and unworthy of love and yet, he reached out to her, allowing her to cradle his head to her chest as he wept for lost time and opportunities, wondering what his life would have been like had Belle and his mother never met twenty-two years ago in a small town in New York. What things would have been like had Damien Spinelli not been stillborn. What things would have been like if the woman who'd taken him had been able to care for him and raise her as his own.

"She wanted to name you Edward Scott," Belle whispered against his hair as she held and rocked him in the dark.

Oblivious to the storm raging around them, they clung to each other. Belle saying goodbye to the little boy she'd lost so many years ago; Spinelli coming to terms with what had been stolen from him and letting go of the lies of which his life had been comprised.

 


	2. Waiting for Stone Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting can sometimes take forever.

Belle was the first to pull away. Swiping a tissue across her eyes, she gave Spinelli a watery smile and grasped his hand in hers.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely as she handed Spinelli a tissue.

Sniffing, Spinelli shyly returned her smile. Though it caused his heart to ache as he thought of all that he had lost because of Belle's actions, he couldn't really blame her for what she'd done when she was a mere child herself. She'd been young and grieving a tremendous loss at the time. Had their roles been reversed, he might have done the same.

"I know," Spinelli rejoined, taking the proffered tissue and wiping the tears from his face. Looking directly into her eyes, he gave her a lopsided smile and, squeezing her fingers, said, "I forgive you."

A fresh wave of tears followed in the wake of Spinelli's words and he found himself comforting his kidnapper once more. It made him feel as though he'd stepped right over reality's threshold and was now wandering hip-deep in the very bowels of the Twilight Zone itself. Because, this, this could not be reality. Who in his right mind patted and rocked and consoled his kidnapper?

Granted, it had been many years since he'd had any contact with the woman as, not only had she kidnapped him, but she'd also abandoned him, but still, surely this went above and beyond what should be required of him and yet, he couldn't let go of her, couldn't allow her to carry the burden of her sins on her own. Wouldn't let her carry them down with her to the grave.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by an earsplitting clap of thunder. Spinelli jerked as the room was plunged once more into an inky darkness. The pintsized mallet-toting man within his head made a jackhammering reappearance and, clearly, much to Spinelli's frustration, decided to take up residence in his brain and was now beating persistently against his skull.

"Ow," he groaned and lurched forward.

His stomach clenched and he choked on bile as it rose up from his stomach, burning his throat and nose before he was able to swallow it down, momentarily keeping it at bay. He felt like crap. His head was killing him and his stomach was summarily following suit.

"Mr. Spinelli?" Belle held the boy at arm's length, taking in his pallor with mounting concern. "Mr. Spinelli?"

"S…sorry M…mom," he whimpered as a wave of dizziness struck him. "What…what were you saying?"

Blinking back tears, she drew in a shaky breath. "We'd better get you home," she spoke with a soft determination, gently pulling Spinelli to his feet as she rose.

"Huh?" Spinelli was confused and the floor looked rather comfortable to his weary mind.

He would love to do nothing more than curl up on the floor and sleep. He'd done it before, slept at the office when Sam and Jason had requested his absence from the penthouse. It hadn't been all that uncomfortable, if he discounted the lingering stiffness he'd felt in his limbs the next morning. It had all but disappeared by mid-afternoon.

The floor was so inviting and it was right there, he'd just take a short nap and then head over to the penthouse. Maybe the persistent pounding in his head would cease and his stomach would discontinue its roiling assault against him after a brief repose. He listed dangerously to the side in his attempt to lie down on the floor and Belle wrapped her thin arms around his waist, acting as ballast as he wavered on his feet.

"Come on, let's get you home," she stated again, worry and guilt overriding the awkwardness of the situation. It was clear that the bump to the back of his head had caused more damage than she'd initially thought and it had been all her fault.

"Where do you live?" She questioned as she lugged Spinelli to the door.

"Nowhere," Spinelli replied with a crooked grin, laughing at the stern look on Belle's face that accompanied his announcement. "Here?" He gestured widely, almost causing the both of them to fall.

"Is there someone I can call?" Belle asked cautiously, unsure whether she would be able to get a straight answer from Spinelli or not. He seemed extremely disoriented and Belle wondered what was going on in his head.

"Uh…" it was hard to think through the pulsating pain in his head, "Stone…Cold."

"Stone cold?" Belle shook her head.

The boy's mind was clearly addled, though she did wonder if the phrase 'stone cold' was a code for someone that Spinelli knew or if he'd spoken those words because he'd grown cold. He was shivering and his skin bore miniature goose bumps.

She should have handled things differently from the onset. If she had simply called ahead of time and set up an appointment with Mr. Spinelli, none of this would have happened. But, she hadn't and now she had to handle the aftermath of yet another mistake she'd made concerning the life of Damian Spinelli.

"I'm sorry Damian," Belle spoke softly as she helped him through the door of the office.

"Sorry?" Spinelli didn't understand why Belle was apologizing. Where was she taking him? Was he an alien hybrid after all?

"I think I'd better just get you to the hospital," Belle muttered as Spinelli swayed on his feet. Maybe someone there would recognize the young man and know who to call.

"Sam, when did you say Spinelli was going to be home?"

Jason's eyes were inexorably drawn to the clock in the living room as yet another streak of lightning lit up the sky. It was followed by a loud crack of thunder and Jason frowned in concern.

Sam watched him out of the corner of her eye, noting how the flickering light of the candles danced over the dark contours of his face, dramatically intensifying the frown he wore. They were cuddled up on the couch, the living room lit up by candles as the power had gone out some time ago.

"Don't know, he said he was going to stay a little longer and work on that adoption case."

Sam snuggled closer to Jason as lightning flashed; the ensuing thunder was drowned out by a torrent of rain. Content to be held safe and warm within the arms of the man she loved during such an ugly storm, she laid her head on his chest.

"I'm sure he'll be walking through the front door any minute now."

Sam inwardly groaned at the thought of Spinelli's inevitable intrusion on her rare moment of intimacy with Jason. She genuinely liked the quirky hacker, but bemoaned the fact that he still roomed with Jason.

"I don't like it," Jason said after a pause, "you've been home two hours now, he should be back."

Sam sighed and shifted slightly so that the bulk of her weight was no longer resting against Jason. It bothered her that the mere mention of Spinelli's name could put a damper on things. It had certainly ruined her mellow mood.

"Why don't you call him?" Sam suggested nonchalantly, careful that none of the annoyance she currently felt toward Spinelli made it into her voice. He really was a sweet young man; she just hated how much he encroached upon Jason's and, as a result, her, love life.

Jason stared at the door for a few seconds, hoping that Spinelli would burst through it at any moment, talking excitedly about a breakthrough in his latest case, but there was a niggling concern for his roommate at the back of his mind which he just could not shake. He bit back a curse of frustration toward his young protégé for causing him to worry as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cellphone. Hitting the speed dial which Spinelli had programmed in for him, he waited for the hacker to pick up.

"He…hello?" A low, timid voice stammered over the phone when it was finally answered.

"Where the hell are you Spinelli?" Jason growled out, exasperation overriding the hit man's concern for his roommate.

"Excuse me?" A clearly irritated, definitely non-Spinelli, female voice countered.

"Who is this?" Jason's blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and, though the speaker on the phone could not see him, the challenge in his voice could be clearly discerned. "Let me talk to Spinelli."

It never occurred to Jason that he might have dialed the wrong number. The error had to have been on the part of the person who had picked up the phone rather than his; after all, he had simply pushed the corresponding number assigned to Spinelli's phone. What was a woman doing answering his roommate's phone?

"Watch your tone," was the snapped response that Jason got, annoyance ringing loud and clear.

"Let me talk to Spinelli, now," Jason managed to ground out through clenched teeth.

Sam scooted away from Jason who was now seated on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, muscles taut beneath his black tee-shirt. She reached for her own cellphone, dialing the office, hoping that she'd reach Spinelli. Concern for the young hacker now superseding her aggravation, guilt pricked her conscience and she prayed that he would answer, that maybe Jason has simply misdialed and Spinelli was not in any trouble as she feared.

"Thank you for calling McCall and Jackal…" Sam hung up on their answering machine, her heart jumping into her throat as she envisioned various dire scenarios of what might have happened to Spinelli. She should never have left him alone, especially given the storm that had blanketed the city. If anything happened to her partner, it would be all her fault as she had left him all alone.

" _Please_ let me talk to Spinelli," Jason said as politely as he could manage under the circumstances, though none of the irascibility he felt toward the nameless woman was absent from the tone of his voice.

"Who is this?" The woman asked instead of granting his request.

"Jason Morgan," he managed to grit out. Uneasiness took up residence in his gut and Jason started to envision his missing roommate hurt and stuffed in this obviously crazy woman's trunk. It did nothing to alleviate the anxiety he felt. "Put Spinelli on the phone," he dictated using his best mob enforcer voice.

"Who are you to Mr. Spinelli?" This woman was really beginning to piss him off. She grunted and Jason thought he could hear his roommate gasp in discomfort.

"What have you done to Spinelli?" Jason asked, worry for the young man taking precedence.

"Nothing."

Heavy breathing accompanied this proclamation and Jason strained his ears listening for clues as to Spinelli's whereabouts. He caught the edge of whispers and his heart paused for a beat and a half as he tried to catch the words being exchanged.

"…okay?"

"…hurts…Ssstone Cccoold."

"…organ?"

"Spinelli?" Jason barked into the phone.

He closed his eyes in aggravation when there was no answer, save for the muttered murmur of voices on the other end as the two continued to hold some mind-boggling conversation which Jason could only guess at as he picked up only a few garbled words. The phone clattered to the ground and Jason gripped his own phone tightly, grinding his teeth in growing annoyance.

Sam placed what she hoped was a calming hand on Jason's arm and bit back a startled cry as lightning cracked and thunder boomed, shaking the penthouse with a frightening rumble. Her imagination was running wild. Picturing Spinelli struck by lightning, hair sticking up at odd angles, his charred body lying akimbo on the sidewalk as it was soaked in the deluge, she let out a panicked squeak as she tried to get her thoughts under control. Such thoughts would not do any of them a bit of good.

"Spinelli?" Jason shouted into the phone, hoping that the young man had been able to retrieve the phone after it had fallen.

A series of clangs and muted clinks assaulted Jason's ears and he pulled the phone away for a few seconds as he waited with bated breath for Spinelli's voice proclaiming his victory to come over the line.

"Sh…shtone C…old?" Spinelli's words were slurred and his breath hitched.

"Spinelli what happened? Are you okay? Where are you?" Jason shot out question after question, not pausing to give his roommate time to answer.

"Huh? Schtone Cold. 'Sat you?"

"Yes, Spinelli, it's me, Stone Cold," Jason let out the breath he'd been holding and shook his head in self-castigation as he realized that nothing nefarious had happened to his roommate.

Clearly, Spinelli had simply gone out and gotten drunk and was accompanying a young, evidently rude, woman home. Though Spinelli didn't drink often and rarely got drunk, Jason knew that he'd been under a lot of pressure lately and that his breakup with Maxie had been difficult. Though he was slightly angry with his roommate, he conceded that the hacker was due a good drunk and he couldn't begrudge him that.

"Head hurts," Spinelli whispered breathily into the phone.

"I can well imagine," Jason responded dryly, leaning back against the couch, releasing the tension he'd been holding since he'd dialed Spinelli's number and gotten someone else. He pulled Sam back against him, nuzzling her head beneath his chin.

"You got a ride home?" He asked when it became apparent that Spinelli was not going to add anything else.

"H…home? No home. 'S all a lie, not," Spinelli rambled, "not me. 'M not Dddamian. Not…not a Sssppinelli."

"Where are you?"

A fresh wave of concern for his roommate assailed him. Even when drunk, Spinelli generally managed to be at least somewhat eloquent. This disjointed speech was not typical of Spinelli. What had that damnable woman done to his friend? Jason's arm tightened around Sam.

"Think I… I'm gonna be schick." Spinelli's voice sounded small to Jason's ears, like he was a little kid rather than a grown man.

"Just tell me where you are," Jason coaxed.

"Du…dunno…" Spinelli slurred.

Just what the hell had happened to his roommate?

"Spinelli, are you at Jake's?"

"Huh? Uh, nu no…"

"You still at the office?" The thread of patience that Jason was holding onto was just about to snap.

"Yeah, du down the schteps," came Spinelli's less than coherent reply.

"Spinelli, stay right where you are," Jason ordered.

"Nu…not Schpinelli."

What the hell was the kid talking about? Had he been drugged? There was an unmistakable sound of grappling on the other end of the line and Jason tensed.

"Mr. Morgan?" The woman's voice again.

"Who the hell are you and what have you done to Spinelli?" Jason snarled into the phone.

"I…I'm afraid that it was my fault," she faltered. "I should have called ahead of time."

"Just shut up and tell me what you did to Spinelli."

Jason was pulling his jacket on and reaching for his locked box on the shelf in his closet. Sam had taken his lead and was tucking her revolver in the band of her jeans.

"He fell… and bumped his head," the woman responded, deciding that it would be unwise to point out the contradiction of Mr. Morgan's order for her to shut up and speak simultaneously. "I'm taking him to the hospital."

"No," Jason instructed, "just stay right where you are. I'll come and get my roommate."

He didn't trust this unknown woman and was not about to let her take Spinelli anywhere. He still wasn't sure what had happened to cause the young man to be in such an altered state of mind and felt it in his gut that this woman was at the center of it and that she could not be trusted.

"Crap," the woman swore almost to herself. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Jason paused just outside the closed door of the penthouse; listening for signs that Spinelli was alright, that he was still conscious.

"Think you can hurry?" There was a note of despair in her voice.

"What happened?" Jason demanded as he took the stairs leading to the parking garage two at a time, Sam following as quickly as she was able.

"I don't think I can carry him down the rest of the stairs," the woman answered, "it's so dark and he's having a hard time walking. I think he hit his head harder than I thought. I…I'm just not strong enough." A weary sigh accompanied her speech and Jason bit back a retort.

"Look lady," Jason said crossly, "I don't care what the fuck happens to you, just keep Spinelli safe and awake. I'm on my way."

"Belle," she blurted out.

"What?" Jason slammed his SUV into drive, peeling out of the parking garage with squealing tires.

"My name's Belle," she repeated.

"Whatever," Jason muttered as he navigated through the semi-flooded streets. "Just sit tight and put Spinelli on the phone."

"Stone Cold?" Spinelli's tired voice sounded distant.

"Talk to me," Jason ordered.

"Don' wanna," Spinelli grumbled. "Head hurts, feels like someone is drumming on the inside of my skull. Jus' wanna sleep." A jaw creaking yawn accompanied that announcement and Jason pushed the accelerator, skidding on water through a yellow light.

"Sorry buddy," Jason tried to keep the concern for his roommate from reaching his voice. "Gotta stay awake just a bit longer. Tell me where you are."

"Whoa, dizzy," a strangled chuckle punctuated Spinelli's words. "Where are we?" The response was too low for Jason to catch over the phone. "Um…n…not sh..sure…su…sixth floor? Fifth? Between?"

"Just stay there, okay?" Jason waited for Spinelli to respond and when he didn't, he raised his voice a notch, "Okay?"

"Y…yeah, 'kay, we'll sch…tay," Spinelli replied quietly.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Jason wanted to keep Spinelli talking, didn't want the young man to lose consciousness, especially if what Belle had said was true and he'd hit his head.

"S…sorry Stone Cold," Spinelli took in a shaky breath, "so tired. D…did y..you know I'm a…I'm a fr…freak?"

"What?" Jason said more harshly than he'd intended. "Spinelli, what are you talking about?" It wouldn't do any good to get angry with his clearly injured friend and yet he couldn't help it. He hated it when the kid badmouthed himself like that.

"I…I'm not Spin…elli." His breath hitched in a stifled sob. "I'm n…not Damian Spinelli," he said a little stronger.

Jason took the next turn at a speed which sent the vehicle careening around the corner as he attempted to process what Spinelli was saying. The hacker just wasn't making sense. When he got his hands on this Belle woman, he was going to throttle her until she told him exactly what she'd done to cause his roommate to sound so broken and forlorn.

"Yes you _are_ Damian Spinelli," Jason assured the young man.

He didn't know what kind of mind games Belle had been playing with his roommate, but he'd put a stop to them and she would rue the day she'd decided to mess with the naïve young man. Jason would see to it personally.

"No, Stone Cold…you…you do…n't understand," Spinelli became insistent, his voice growing indignant as he continued, "I…I…she…she took me…I…was a…a baby…jus'a baby."

 _What the hell?_ "I don't understand Spinelli," Jason wholeheartedly agreed with Spinelli's assessment of the situation.

"Your trust…ted g…g…grass," Spinelli swallowed, "hopper is not who you think he is. He is…in fact…a…an imp…po…po…ster."

"Spinelli, whatever this Belle chick said, don't believe it," Jason commanded. "Whatever she's told you, it's a lie."

"No," Spinelli's voice sounded defeated, "it's not a…lie. It…it's the truth."

"Just hold on, I'm almost there."

Jason stomped on the brake causing the SUV to come to a skidding halt on the street in front of the office building that housed Spinelli and Sam's PI agency. Sam was out of the vehicle and running to the locked building almost before the vehicle had come to a complete stop. Jason followed closely behind, taking the keys to the building from her shaky hands as she fumbled with them while trying to unlock the door.

"Be there in a minute," Jason promised Spinelli before he quickly pocketed his cellphone and raced up the dark stairwell, not waiting to see if Sam was behind him. _Fuck it's dark, should've brought a flashlight._

"Jason," Sam's voice called to him from half a flight down.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he reluctantly slowed his pace and turned. A faint light flooded the black stairwell, lengthening the shadows of the corners eerily as the light bounded off of them in odd angles. He waited for Sam, his light bearer, with a mild forbearance as the need to get to Spinelli before Belle further twisted his mind supplanted everything else.

Together, Jason and Sam dashed up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, the dim light of the flashlight illuming the path before them, casting the pair in stark relief against the gray concrete of the staircase, giving them an ethereal quality. Jason's mind was solely on getting Spinelli away from the deceitful Belle. Sam's was on aiding Jason.

"Mr. Spinelli." Belle gently shook the boy sitting on the step next to her as his eyes drifted closed. Fear was a blanket smothering her. She hadn't liked the underlying promise of violence she'd heard in Jason Morgan's voice when she'd spoken to him on the phone and was also terrified that, if Damian did lose consciousness, he might not wake up again.

"Mr. Spinelli, you need to stay awake," Belle told the now scowling young man, pulling him closer to her side in a one-armed hug. "I'm sorry, really I am, but I'm worried about you. Your f…friend is on his way." She could faintly hear what she hoped were footsteps echoing up the stairwell.

"So tired," Spinelli complained, leaning into Belle's embrace. "Jus…a quick nap."

"No!" She pulled slightly away from the young man, jarring him just a bit to keep him from closing his eyes. Tears glistened in the green orbs and the accusatory look in them, as she continued to forbid him sleep, cut her to her very soul.

"You can't take a nap," she kept her voice firm; biting her lip painfully at the crestfallen look of torture he cast her. She withheld the heartfelt apology she wanted to give the young man, knowing that it would sound hollow and cruel to him.

"Why not?" Those two words were laced with guilt-inducing censure.

"Because," Belle fished around for the right words, "I…I promised Mr. Morgan that you would wait up for him." She searched his eyes for understanding and let out a sigh of relief as he gave her a brief nod.

He was so tired and couldn't for the life of him comprehend why his non-mother and Stone Cold were both insisting that he remain steadfastly outside of the enticing land of Nod. He knew, with every fiber of his being, that all he needed was a little bit of sleep, then he'd be right as rain, but he was being denied it.

He was being denied the one thing he most needed and it was making him angry. What right did his kidnapper have to demand that he stay awake when his body was begging him to sleep? What right had Stone Cold, who wouldn't even believe him when he was telling the truth about not being the Spinelli he knew, to order him to stay awake? What difference would it make if he did what he wanted just this once? It wasn't as if it would hurt either of them, but staying awake would hurt him. They were being cruel and spiteful and he didn't understand why. What had he done to deserve this?

"Don't care," Spinelli lied, closing his eyes.

Stone Cold couldn't deny him sleep, where was he anyway? He was tired and his head was so sore he wanted to sever it from the rest of his body. He could get a brain transplant; get one which was not so viciously vindictive.

Hating herself just a little bit more, Belle pinched Spinelli's arm, hard, glaring back with narrowed eyes at the petulant look he shot her way as he rubbed at the sore spot.

"You're mean," Spinelli said in a small voice. He was suddenly glad that he'd grown up with Granny rather than this evil non-mother who wouldn't let him sleep. Pouting, he shoved Belle, causing her to flail a bit to keep her balance.

"I'm sorry, Damian," Belle said sincerely as she regained her balance.

She was sorrier than she could ever begin to say. She should have left well enough alone. The boy was a grown man, not the little baby she'd taken from his teenaged mother, what good would it do for him to find his birth parents now? She'd been selfish again, bringing yet more heartache to Damian in an attempt to make things right for herself before she died.

 _Can't take it back, Belle_ , she told herself in a voice which sounded more like her mother than she liked. _Right, gotta keep Damian awake until Mr. Morgan finds us._

"Damian," she said in a tone of voice she'd hated hearing from her own mother as it usually meant that she was in trouble. "What did I tell you?"

Spinelli looked warily at the woman who'd turned his world completely on its axis just an hour ago. How did she know that he'd closed his eyes? It was dark, though, well, he could see her through eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could probably see him too.

"Wasn't sleeping. Was just resting my eyes," he fibbed. Why the hell wouldn't she just leave him alone already?

"I know you're tired," Belle acknowledged, smiling at the nod which this admission elicited from her temporary charge.

An onslaught of scenarios of what might have been had she not dropped this baby boy off on her mother's doorstep assaulted her and she was floored by the bereavement she felt as she only now began to truly understood the severity of what she'd done as a teenager. Would she have had similar experiences with Damian had she gotten her act together and been a mother to him? Would he have insisted that he was not tired when he was and refused to go to sleep when it was bedtime?

She was startled from her pensive regrets when a weak, yet welcome beam of light caused the darkness of the corridor to flee before her eyes. Footsteps, louder, closer reverberated on the concrete walls and she turned a rueful grin toward Spinelli, squeezing his arm lightly.

"He's almost here," Belle ensured, "see the light?"

Spinelli nodded, wincing as it caused his head to throb anew. He could also hear the ringing of footfalls on the steps, making him feel even dizzier than he already did. He wanted to close his eyes against the double-assault of light and sound, but worried that if he did, Belle would pinch him again. His arm still smarted from the last time he'd dared to close his eyes.

"Mr. Morgan?" Belle called out tentatively. It sounded as though he was coming rather quickly and she wanted to avoid a possible collision.

"Belle? Spinelli?" Jason called up the stairs, momentarily halting his ascent as he awaited a response.

It felt as though it had taken him forever to make it up the seven flights. Spinelli was further up than he'd thought when he'd spoken to him earlier.

"We're up here, maybe another flight?" Belle replied.

"Spinelli?" Jason didn't like that he hadn't gotten a verbal response from his roommate.

"He's fine, but we need to get him to the hospital soon," Belle called back, hoping that it would be enough for the man and that he would continue up the steps and bring them to safety.

"Jason, I'm sure he's fine, let's just get up there and check it out," a female voice wafted up the stairs and Belle prayed that he'd take her advice.

"We're coming up," Jason called.

Belle sighed in relief, grinning goofily at Spinelli who blinked slowly in an attempt to keep his eyes open. "You'll be able to sleep soon," Belle promised him.

"Wanna sleep now," Spinelli argued, but kept his eyes open by sheer force of will.

Light danced before his eyes and he squinted as pickaxe-wielding demons began to tap dance on the back of his eyeballs. Nausea overwhelmed him and he slapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to quell the uneasy roiling of his stomach.

"Spinelli?" Stone Cold clasped his shoulder and Spinelli let go of the pertinacious control he'd been exhibiting over his baser inclinations.

"Sto…" Spinelli's stomach lost its meager contents as he opened his mouth, spewing a chunk-filled goopy substance all over his mentor's prized boots.

Burning red with humiliation, Spinelli clapped a trembling hand over his rebellious mouth as his stomach clenched once more and threatened mutiny. Tears of agony, fatigue and shame fell from his eyes and he barely registered that gentle fingers were brushing his hair back from his face.

"Sorry," he managed to croak past the fist covering his mouth.

He'd just puked on Stone Cold's boots; the austere man was not going to forgive that anytime soon. Spinelli wished he could sink into the center of the earth and disappear.

"It's okay Spinelli, can you look at me?" Jason urged.

Squinting, as the light from the flashlight felt exceedingly bright to him, Spinelli reluctantly raised his glassy eyes to Jason's, taking shallow, steadying breaths as he did so. He did _not_ want his stomach to expel itself all over his mentor again.

"What happened?"

The harsh tone of his mentor's words caused him to flinch, but Stone Cold was looking at Belle. His blue eyes were sharp and accusing. Spinelli shivered.

"He fell," Belle sounded scared as she answered.

"How did he _fall_?" Stone Cold's voice was icy.

"I…I think I spooked him and he tripped over a chair when I came into his office," Belle explained.

"It's true," Spinelli offered diffidently.

He could sense Belle's fear and, really, his fall hadn't technically been her fault, but rather that of his overwrought imagination. If he hadn't allowed himself to get carried away with his thoughts, they wouldn't be sitting in the dark on a stairwell, Stone Cold's boots wouldn't be soiled and he would be well on his way to finding his birth mother and father.

"Fine." It wasn't fine, but it looked as though Spinelli were about to pass out and this could wait. He'd question _Belle_ after he got Spinelli safely to the hospital. "Think you can stand Spinelli?"

"Sure," Spinelli answered reluctantly. He made to stand, trying to support himself with the wall.

Jason, taking one look at the disheveled young man, knew that, even if he managed to stand on his own, he'd be unable to navigate his way safely down the stairs. Hooking an arm around Spinelli's shoulder and the other around his waist, he hoisted him up as carefully as he could.

"Stone Cold," Spinelli protested as vehemently as he could as Jason hefted him in his arms, carrying him like a child. "I can walk," he insisted weakly, inordinately comfortable.

"It'll be faster this way."

Jason nodded for Sam to light the way, not caring whether Belle found her way down the stairs in one piece on her own or not. It'd serve her right if she broke her neck on the descent for scaring Spinelli half to death, quite literally, in his own office after business hours.

What had she wanted with Spinelli in the first place? What was so important that it couldn't wait for regular working hours? What had she said that made Spinelli question who he even was? Why would she attempt to brainwash the young man so spectacularly that he claimed not to be himself?

Jason would deal with her later; he didn't trust her, didn't believe her explanation and was going to get to the bottom of this bizarre escapade no matter what it cost this stranger. She was nothing to him, maybe something to Spinelli, but that didn't matter, because the moment Spinelli had ended up hurt because of her, Jason considered her own health and safety forfeit.

Spinelli meant more to him than he'd ever willingly say to the young man, not being the sentimental type, and for him, actions spoke louder than words. He'd show Spinelli just who he was, to him, and protect him from this strange woman who was threatening to offset the stability of his world and Jason's as well. Jason Morgan was no friend to the concept of change. Heaven help her if Spinelli was hurt any worse than he appeared to be, because, in that case, she would feel the full and swift wrath of Jason Morgan as he avenged someone he loved.

 


	3. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hind-sight is always 20/20.

Belle climbed into her car, following the SUV which carried the boy she'd chosen as replacement for her stillborn baby years ago. Though she had no right to the claim and could not understand it, she felt as though he really was her son now – that he had become so with her admittance of guilt and his forgiveness of the crime.

Mr. Morgan hadn't so much as glanced in her direction since he'd plucked Damian up and carried him down the stairs and out the door. Not that she blamed him for this slight. Had their roles been reversed, she too would be reluctant to bestow her trust on a stranger who'd harmed the young man who was so quick to forgive and she'd wager, love.

She wondered what other gems Spinelli held within him and doubted that she'd be given the opportunity to glimpse more than a few of them before she died, provided that Mr. Morgan ever let her get within close proximity of Damian again that is. It was clear to her that he cared very much for Damian though she knew not in what capacity.

As she trailed the SUV through streets gushing with rainwater, memories assaulted her. She was a teenager, her body aching as she clutched the tiny mewling infant to her chest, frantically trying to quiet him by making gentle shushing sounds and bouncing him as she hid around a corner of the clinic. It was late, but she knew that if she were to have a chance at escaping with the baby, she'd have to be quick. She couldn't afford to be caught by one of the late night nurses or security guards who hung out near the front desk.

_If only I had been caught_ , she thought ruefully as she wended her way through the rain-filled streets.

Jason glanced sideways in the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of Spinelli's much too pallid face pillowed in Sam's lap. She was lightly caressing his hair, speaking low and soothingly to him. Jason couldn't make out what either of them was saying, but could sense Spinelli's distress in the boy's muted replies to whatever Sam was saying to him.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he wove his way through the slick streets. The hospital loomed up ahead, but Jason couldn't seem to shake the feeling of trepidation which had befallen him since he'd first spoken to Belle on the phone. Whoever this woman was, she had hurt Spinelli, and, if just a portion of what Spinelli had been rambling about was true, in more ways than one.

"Damn," Jason swore as he swerved around a tree which had fallen beneath the assault of wind and rain.

"We there yet?" Sam's voice betrayed her concern.

"Almost."

Jason cranked the steering wheel and slid into a screeching halt in front of the double doors of the ER. Belle slammed on the brakes to avoid a collision with the halted SUV.

"Sam," Jason grunted as he threw open his door, leaving the keys in the ignition, "give him to me, you go park the car."

Sam nodded in assent, and, as Jason scooped Spinelli from the back of the SUV, she darted around the front of the vehicle and slid into the driver's seat, waiting until Jason and Spinelli were clear before she shifted into drive, ignoring the impatient honks.

"Dizzy," Spinelli slurred.

"We're almost there, the doctors will fix you up in no time," Jason promised his protégé as he swept through the front doors of the hospital.

"A little help here!" He called out, eyes immediately locking on those of a nurse he knew almost too well, Epiphany Johnson.

Jason ignored the moans and groans and disgruntled cries of, "I need help too," from others in the hospital's emergency waiting room.

Spinelli needed help and he needed it now.

"Here's a wheelchair," an orderly shuffled over to him, but Jason shook his head. He wasn't going to relinquish his hold on the young man until he knew that he was getting help.

Epiphany made her way over to the two, casting censorious looks at the night staff which attempted to pry Spinelli from Jason's hold. She knew that, whatever had happened, Jason was not about to trust that kid to anyone else's care until he knew what was what.

"Go busy yourselves elsewhere," she commanded and the vultures dispersed, much to Jason's relief. He'd never been happier to see the arrogant nurse in his life.

"What happened to your boy?"

"Don't know, bumped his head or something, he's been talking nonsense."

Jason realized that he didn't have much to offer by way of explanation and glowered at the woman who just so happened to know more than he did as a rain-slicked Belle walked into the room, followed closely by Sam. Jason nodded at Sam and clenched his jaw as Belle inched closer, raising her hand as though to caress Spinelli's hair. He glared; cool blue eyes boring into Belle's hazel irises and she faltered, causing a brief, cruel grin to twist Jason's features.

"Jason," Epiphany spoke softly, "in order for us to treat him, you're going to have to put Spinelli down."

"Not until someone's ready to see him," he stated.

Though some small part of him knew that he was being irrational, a bigger part of him wanted to make sure that nothing worse happened to Spinelli and he didn't know how to do that unless Spinelli was under his immediate purview. He plopped down in one of the uncomfortable ER room chairs and grimaced as it groaned under his weight combined with Spinelli's.

He hoped it wouldn't be a long wait and, though he knew that there were others who were possibly in poorer condition than his roommate, Jason couldn't help the frown he sent a few of the waiting patients, especially those who appeared to have no visible injury. If they were just faking a malady for attention or to get meds for some addiction, he was going to give them a piece of his mind.

"Why don't you tell me what happened." A clipboard in hand, Epiphany lowered herself into a seat across from Jason, disregarding Sam and the bedraggled-looking woman who appeared to be accompanying her as she awaited answers.

It was clear that Jason wouldn't relinquish Spinelli until he was forced to and he wouldn't do that until there was a doctor available to take care of him. Epiphany steadfastly ignored the furtive looks her night crew cast in her direction and focused on the matter at hand.

Though it rankled that she appeared to be pandering to the whimsy of the mob, she pushed it aside for the sake of the pale young man ensconced in the infamous hit man's perilous embrace. She wondered briefly if anyone had been there to hold her Stan as he died and swallowed the acrimonious bile which threatened to add weight to her words.

It wouldn't do Spinelli, fool though the boy was, a bit of good if she got on Morgan's bad side, though, truth was, that wasn't hard to do on a good day let alone when the man was having a bad day. And it was definitely a bad day if the murderous looks the man was gifting those in the lobby were anything to go by.

"Not sure," Jason stated, giving the diminutive woman standing next to Sam a scathing look. "Got a call from her, what fifteen, thirty minutes ago?" He looked to Sam for verification and she nodded, not taking her eyes off the mysterious woman.

"Spinelli was confused, speaking nonsense. Think he's got a concussion," Jason supplied.

"I see," Epiphany pursed her lips as she checked off the appropriate boxes on the admittance papers. "Anything else? Has he vomited?"

Lowering his eyes to his boots, Jason nodded. Epiphany checked off another box.

"Lost consciousness?"

Jason looked at the sopping wet woman next to Sam and his nostrils flared when the woman nodded her head. "He was out, barely a minute."

"Has he been complaining about blurry vision?" Another head shake.

"Had any trouble communicating?"

"Like I said, he isn't making any sense and sometimes he slurs his words," Jason grunted.

"Mr. Morgan," Epiphany expelled an impatient breath, biting her tongue, if anyone knew how many times she held her tongue, they'd be surprised. She had a reputation for speaking the honest, brutal truth no matter what. Truthfully, she only spoke the truth half as much as it needed to be spoken as she chose her words carefully.

"This would go a lot smoother if you stopped trying to glare everyone in the lobby into submission and if you cooperated with me. I am trying to ascertain the severity of your colleague's condition.

Epiphany gave Jason as cold a stare as he was giving her, and raised a single eyebrow. When Jason briefly looked away, she continued, "Additionally, information about any preexisting conditions as well as insurance carrier will need to be obtained. If you are incapable of providing me with this information, you will be delaying care for your _grasshopper_."

Smiling inwardly when Jason had the grace to look abashed, she continued, "Now, here's how it is going to go. I, Mr. Morgan, will ask the questions, you will provide the answers and if you give me any cheek, I'll call for an orderly and some security to wrestle that young man from you if need be and then call the police and have you arrested. Do you understand?"

Jason's jaw twitched, Epiphany did not back down as she held his gaze, obstinate glare for obstinate glare. Her lips twitched upward in a half smile when he nodded his acquiesce.

"Good, now, let's see where was I? Has he had any trouble communicating?"

"Yes," Jason ground out as politely as he could. "He…that is he thinks he isn't himself and his words aren't coming out clearly," he amended.

Jason answered the rest of Epiphany's questions through clenched teeth. _When the hell was a doctor going to come and help Spinelli? And what the hell is that woman still doing here?_ Jason turned to glare pointedly at Belle who was hovering just behind the plastic chairs. Her eyes were fastened on Spinelli as though she were concerned for his well-being, as though it wasn't her fault that he was in the hospital waiting room to begin with. When Spinelli was finally being seen to, he would be having a little chat with her.

Belle shivered beneath the gimlet glares Mr. Morgan kept sending her. Being on the receiving end of his animosity was definitely not on her top ten list of things to do while in the city of Port Charles. His intense scrutiny made her feel as though she was the very scum of the earth and he was determined to eradicate her. _Save the earth, kill Belle. No,_ she amended, _save Damian, kill Belle._

Just what was Mr. Morgan's connection to Damian? The man was almost twice his age, and Belle felt a strange urge to protect the young man she had abandoned so long ago from a potentially damaging, if not illicit, relationship. Though she hadn't known him for long, she sensed that Spinelli was somewhat of an innocent, and, much like his late mother, vulnerable to those who would prey upon him. He was an easy target for those who would wish him harm and Belle found that unsettling.

What kind of life had she abandoned Damian to? She had believed that her mother would be a much better caretaker for the baby, not wanting to return him to where he rightfully belonged out of fear of being imprisoned, and knowing that her mother, for all of her faults had been a good mother overall. She was strict and uncompromising, but she had never abused her. Had she mistreated Damian?

Now, seeing Damian with this man, Belle questioned the wisdom of her decision. Had her mother, with all of her sternness, unwittingly driven Damian to this irascible man's arms? Had she done the wrong thing after all? How badly had she screwed things up for him? Was there any way for her to redeem the situation?

Belle had a lot of questions for Mr. Morgan. Once Damian was being seen to by the hospital staff, she would get to the bottom of things and do what she could to get Damian away from the man who seemed to be holding onto him as though he was some sort of glorified anchor.

Though she had no motherly rights whatsoever where Damian was concerned, Belle would not be leaving Port Charles until she was certain that Mr. Morgan was not taking advantage of Karen's son. She owed the other woman at least that much.

If she found out that Mr. Morgan was hurting Damian or using him, Belle would put a stop to it for the sake of his mother. No matter how intimidating the man may be, Belle would do everything in her power to protect the son she'd stolen from Karen, if it was the last thing she ever did. She wasn't long for this world anyway. She could perform one final service of kindness with the little time she had left.

"Look, Spinelli needs help, I've been cooperative," Jason's voice rose perceptibly with the mounting level of his frustration. He half rose from the plastic chair only to be stopped with a restraining hand on his arm.

"Mr. Morgan, stay put," Epiphany ordered. "I will send an intern over momentarily to take Mr. Spinelli from you."

He capitulated with a snarl.

"Idiot man's gonna wrench his back if he carries on like that," she mumbled beneath her breath as she stood.

"Not so fast," Jason stuck out his leg, stopping her, "I don't want some fucking intern poking around at Spinelli. Get Patrick or Robin."

"Mr. Morgan," Epiphany was about to lose what little patience she had for the short-tempered man, "General Hospital's interns are all highly qualified. If what you have told me is true, Mr. Spinelli has nothing more than a concussion. Our interns will take very good care of him. It would be a waste of valuable hospital staff to call a surgeon in when it is unnecessary."

"Excuse me," Belle cleared her voice, ignoring the dirty look Mr. Morgan sent her way as she stepped in between the two, "seems to me that Damian needs to be seen to as soon as possible. Maybe some sort of compromise can be reached?"

 


	4. Tandem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miracles happen every day.

The nurse turned her formidable gaze on Belle, who mustered as much of a smile as she could under the impressive twin glares she was getting from both Mr. Morgan and the night nurse. It had been a long, emotionally grueling day, and she wasn't feeling all that great. Belle steeled herself to fight for the young man who was still being clutched firmly to Mr. Morgan's chest.

Damian's hair was plastered to his much too pale face by rainwater and sweat. He had a pained look in his eyes, and Belle once more questioned her decision to find the young man and ease her own guilt by telling him the truth.

 _There's no going back now,_ Belle thought, and she drew herself up to her full height. "Might I suggest that Mr. Spinelli at least be given a bed?"

She was surprised, given the way the young man looked, that it hadn't already been suggested. Belle knew the ins and outs of ER rooms, almost as well as she knew the back of her hand – she'd faked plenty of aches and illnesses in her lifetime, getting prescriptions for medications that she didn't need to feed her addiction.

The nurse, Epiphany Johnson, her name tag read, didn't even blink. She stood and towered over Belle, who refused to back down. Belle might not be Damian's true mother, but she felt a need to get him the help that he needed, if for nothing else, than to relieve the guilt she felt for the injury he received when she'd inadvertently frightened him.

Belle wondered if there was any truth to the claim that guilt ate away at people like a cancer, and if that is why she was dying – because of her guilt. She wondered if she made amends – as the literature for the twelve-step program she belonged to recommended, and her sponsor demanded – would that enough to make her well? The doctors had said that the cancer was inoperable. That it was in its final stages, but what did they know?

Miracles happened every day – or at least that's what Karen had said when they'd been at the Clinic together, and that's what Belle's sponsor, Jessica, had told her over the past three years. Belle hadn't much believed in them, she'd had little in her life that led to belief in miracles, or in a God who performed them.

To her, God was a stern, demanding overseer, ever frowning down on the world, looking for someone – like her – to quash, or fault for wrongdoing. Never satisfied, God was always unhappy with her. It had been hard for Belle to find, and then trust in a Higher Power.

Truth was that she was still finding it difficult. Belle didn't want to die, and she didn't understand what kind of God, or Higher Power, or whatever it was that was in control of the universe, could have allowed her baby to die. What kind of God just stood idly by, watching while His creations suffered? What kind of God would allow a young, hurting girl to kidnap an innocent baby? What kind of God would give her cancer?

Belle pushed her whirling thoughts aside, because this wasn't supposed to be about her. It wasn't supposed to be about what she needed or wanted, and she really wanted a drink or a fix right now. She'd have to call Jessica before the night was over.

"I don't think that anyone doubts that you've got a great hospital staff here, Nurse Johnson," Belle said breathily, "but we're worried about Mr. Spinelli, and he did lose consciousness. I've also told him something which has no doubt contributed to his current state of confusion. Can we please get him a room in the ER?

The nurse eyed her coolly, and her jaw twitched. She snapped her fingers, and an orderly appeared at her side. Belle wondered if the woman had supernatural gifts, but wisely kept her thoughts to herself. Belle highly doubted that Nurse Johnson would take too kindly to the suggestion that she was a witch.

"Malcolm," Nurse Johnson instructed the young orderly, who looked as though he was half-terrified of the nurse. "Please escort Mr. Morgan and his charge to room 111. I'll be there as soon as I page doctors Drake and Scorpio." The smile that the nurse gave the orderly was almost kind.

Mr. Morgan stood, and grunted as he hefted Damian Spinelli in his arms, and Belle wondered at the strength of the man. She eyed him closely as he strained beneath the younger man's weight, and her breath caught in her throat as she recalled Karen's description of the boy's father: _blue eyes that sparkle like sapphires, a smile that could move mountains, and a body built like a Greek god._

Belle's heart hammered in her chest as she quickly followed after Mr. Morgan. She paid no heed to Nurse Johnson, or the dark-haired woman who'd accompanied Mr. Morgan when he'd come for Damian. They called to her, but she ignored them in favor of cataloguing every feature of the strange, abrasive man who held her, no, _Karen's_ , boy so protectively. Could it be that Mr. Morgan was Damian's father?

* * *

Jason was reluctant to release his hold on Spinelli. He knew that he was being irrational, that both Epiphany and Malcolm would take good care of the injured young man, but Jason was worried that, if he let go of Spinelli, something bad might happen.

Jason laid Spinelli down on the hospital bed, but he refused to completely relinquish his hold on him. He kept a hand on Spinelli's, and squeezed it when Spinelli turned his head. Spinelli's eyes widened in panic when they caught sight of Belle, and, though Jason wanted to turn toward the woman and order her out of the room, he kept his focus on Spinelli.

"Spinelli, it's okay," Jason assured the younger man, leaning close, and holding the younger man's gaze with his own. "She can't hurt you anymore."

"She took me," Spinelli said in a voice that made him sound much younger than he actually was. It gave Jason goose bumps. "I'm not Spinelli."

"Spinelli." Jason ignored the way that Spinelli's mouth twisted angrily, and he held fast to Spinelli's hand when the younger man tried to pull away from him.

"Listen to me," Jason said sternly, waiting until Spinelli's eyes were locked on his once again. "Whatever she's told you," he gestured behind himself toward where he thought Belle might be standing, "don't believe it, okay? You are Damian Spinelli. My roommate. My friend. Someone I care about. She doesn't know you, Spinelli, I do." Jason squeezed Spinelli's fingers in his own, not liking how cold they felt.

Jason hoped that he was speaking the truth, and that this woman, whoever the hell she was, meant nothing to Spinelli, or he to her. Spinelli had never spoken of a Belle before, and Jason couldn't remember having heard anything about a woman in Spinelli's life other than Maxie, Lulu, and his grandmother.

"But…" whatever Spinelli had been about to say was cut off by a moan, and then Jason was being pushed and pulled away from Spinelli very efficiently by Epiphany and Malcolm.

"Jason," Robin's voice cut through the dull ringing in Jason's ears, as he fought to maintain his hold on Spinelli's fingers. Jason tried to shrug Robin's hand off his arm when she placed it there, but she refused to be shaken, and her fingernails bit into his flesh, making him wince and turn from Spinelli to glare at her.

Robin raised a single eyebrow at him, matching his glare with one of her own, and Jason looked away. "Jason, let me examine Spinelli."

Jason stepped to the side, but kept his eyes trained on Robin, watching her every move. He paid little heed to Belle, though he could sense her hovering just on the edge of the room. He knew that Sam was keeping an eye on the woman, and that she wouldn't let Belle out of her sight, but her presence made him more than just a little uncomfortable, particularly because it seemed to be disturbing Spinelli.

"You can leave now," Jason said, not taking his eyes off of Spinelli and Robin. "I think we can all agree that you've caused enough trouble." Jason resisted the urge to turn around and bodily throw Belle out of the room when the woman remained where she was.

Spinelli flinched when Robin shined a light into his eyes, and Jason's hands curled into fists. Robin's frown and quick, but tight smile in response, only made Jason feel that much more worried. The woman who'd been the cause of all of this was still in the room, and he wasn't going to stand by and let her stay and continue to cause Spinelli pain.

Jason turned, and advanced on Belle. She was a small woman, at least three feet shorter than Jason, a few inches shorter than Sam. She refused to back down, and so did Jason.

"It's time for you to leave." Jason reached for Belle's arm, but she pulled away.

"I'll leave when I'm good and ready to leave, and that won't be until I know that Mr. Spinelli is alright," Belle said, squaring her shoulders. If it weren't for her sallow skin and the dark circles under her eyes, Jason would've grabbed her, woman or not, and shoved her from the room.

"Stone Cold, don't." Spinelli's voice was weak, and pained as he struggled to sit up despite Robin's hand on his chest. "She's the only one who knows the truth."

Jason frowned at his roommate, but he directed his question to Belle. "What's he talking about? What do you know?"

"Who Mr. Spinelli's real mother and father are," Belle said. Jason didn't like the way she smiled at him or the way that she insinuated herself between him and Spinelli's hospital bed.

"I thought…that is…" Spinelli's face scrunched up in confusion and he reached for his head, closing his eyes against a sudden onset of pain.

Jason pushed Belle out of the way in his haste to get to Spinelli and protect him from the woman. He didn't care if she did know the truth of Spinelli's parentage, right now she was only causing Spinelli more pain, and that was not something he would allow.

"Get out," Jason hissed at Belle, and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Sam had grabbed Belle and was pulling her out of the room. He ignored the woman's protests, and focused his attention on Spinelli, who was breathing heavily, in and out of his mouth, as though trying to keep himself from getting sick.

"She's gone now," Jason said, smoothing Spinelli's hair back. "Lie down." He helped Spinelli lie back against the pillow.

Spinelli's face was pinched with pain, and he was much too pale.

"Is he going to be okay?" Jason turned to look at Robin, and didn't like the frown that she gave him in lieu of an answer.

"I think that Patrick should take a look at him," Robin said, "just to be certain. I think a CT scan might be necessary, but I can't be sure. He's got a concussion, but I want to rule out any hemorrhaging, or contusions."

Jason nodded, and drew in a deep breath. He smiled at Spinelli when the younger man gave him a slightly panicked look. Jason felt something stir inside of him, and he grasped Spinelli's hand and patted it. His heart twisted when Spinelli gave him a grateful look, as though he trusted Jason with his life.

"Don't worry, I'll stay with you," Jason promised.

"Wish you were my father," Spinelli murmured, and then his eyelids fluttered.

Spinelli's body tensed and stiffened as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and, before Jason could even call out to him, he was pushed aside by Epiphany and Robin. Jason could only watch in a numb sort of horror as the rails of the bed were lowered and doctor and nurse worked in tandem to bring Spinelli back.

 


End file.
